


My sweetest victory

by Mother_North



Series: Of Gravity & Opposition [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Power Play, Psychology, Rivalry, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: Nathan wins Four Continents Championships and gets a reward he has never even started to imagine.





	My sweetest victory

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a result of author’s rewatching of the 4CC. I guess there is not enough of this pairing in the fandom. Heck, I do not even know how to name it properly – Yuzuthan? Nathuru? Hachen? Chenyu? ;D  
> Anyways, here it is. Also, the original text in Russian can be found in the list of my works, if needed. The translation into English is done by me and all of the mistakes are mine, naturally, and I would like to apologize for them in advance.  
> Hope you’ll enjoy. Feedback is really appreciated.  
> P.S. I don't even feel guilty and it bothers me slightly ;)

POV Nathan

     There’re only a couple of minutes left, just a couple of them, and I’ll have to pull off the skate of my life. I really have no other choice because you haven’t left me any. Rafael recommended me strongly not to watch your free skate, your turn to skate had been right before mine. He said it was better for me to be absolutely focused and not be distracted by any outside factors such as, for instance, the performance of a major tournament favorite, multiple record-breaker and figure skating super-star  - Yuzuru Hanyu. But I insisted on it. I wanted to see you on the ice this time and I kept watching closely. In each of your refined movements I saw a challenge, first of all, a challenge for myself. You were challenging me. You were fighting desperately as always, trying to compensate for the lost points in the short, struggling for every tenth, changing the technical content of your program right on the fly. Well, I have to confess, it doesn’t fail to impress.  But today, you were not absolutely perfect, yes, you were very graceful and fluid, your neat and thoroughly trained movements streaming to the music like a powerful, yet gentle torrent, creating a mesmerizing combination of might and delicate beauty. It seemed that the audience at the ice arena has gone wild, cheering you loudly with all of the heart, even though one of your quad salchows has betrayed you on that day. Countless toys, flowers and other symbols of your adoration littered the white surface of  the ice. The never ending ovations drowning the whole expanse of the stadium, as if you have already won, but – no. There is still _me_. You’ve made five quad attempts and landed four of them. I’ll make five quad attempts and I’ll land all of the five. As simple as that. There is no other way, I won’t lose to you today, as I’ve already done earlier this season during NHK Trophy or in the Grand-Prix Final. Your total sum of 303.71 points appears on the scoreboard. Over three hundred. I swallow convulsively, taking a deep breath _._ _I_ _am_ _calm_ _._ I need to be. Having a glimpse at the Kiss  & Cry area. You make no effort in hiding your genuine joy, satisfied, as if the victory is already practically yours. I know quite well how strongly you desire to claim the first prize here, at this particular tournament, on this particular evening, on this particular future Olympic ice. You want to leave everyone far behind, including me of course. I guess it would have seemed as a really good omen to you, taking into consideration the events which are to take place here in a year’s time. I’ve heard that you are quite a superstitious fellow. I don’t carry any of the talismans or fortune amulets with me, except, perhaps, for the solid knowledge of the exact amount of the colossal hard work which had been done by me and my coaching staff. I am sure that this work will have it’s respective results sooner or later and I’ll be able to reach the firmament and grab it’s brightest star from there, _your star_ , if only for one short lived triumphant evening. The beginning will be set.

     Rafael Vladimirovich is smiling at me tensely, having some farewell words to say:

    — “You can do it. Do it today. _Do_ _him_.”

     I am trying my hardest to chase away the torrent of stubborn thoughts that, perhaps, now is a dress rehearsal for the Olympic tournament, that the third consecutive defeat from you at one of the most prestigious competitions of the season is not just super stressful but plainly insulting, that it’s me who is leading after the short program, that I have to win. I cleanse my mind from all of the imaginable “before” and “after”. Only “now” and only “here” exist. It seems, as if the time has slowed down all of a sudden, minutes dragging torturously, making me squeeze my fingertips painfully in anticipation. I can feel nervous energy tingling in my limbs, which are a bit stiff. At last the ice is cleared of all of the plushy teddy-bears and I make my way towards the center of the ice-rink without hesitation, gaining full speed at once. I want to show everyone that I am completely self-assured and there’s nothing that can waver my confidence at the moment: nor the untold number of your devoted fans, still screaming in excited delirium, nor the lively sea of white and red flags flashing in my eyes. _I feel ready._  

      I close my eyes for the briefest of moments and after opening them again I catch your gaze. Your stare is unreadable and so, so dark and overpowering. But now I can’t care less about solving the mysteries, hidden in the depths of your hypnotizing eyes. I only know that, popular among skaters opinion that it’s better to avoid looking you in the eyes right before the performance, seems to be absolutely legit. I can see perfectly well a small cocky smirk on your thin lips, as if you are telling me: “Come on, boy, give it a try.” I feel goosebumps break down my spine from _your_ insolent voice in _my_ head. It looks like my nervous apprehension has reached its limit. Damn, you have to pull yourself together, Nathan. My time has finally come.  

      The first notes of Borodin’s “The Polovtsian Dances” make an invisible line between me and the rest of the existing reality.  I put all of my strength into the first quad lutz-triple toe combination, feeling the edge of the blade cutting into the surface if the ice upon the landing. I have no doubt that my today’s skate is going to be nothing short of extraordinary. The adrenaline is pumping hotly through my veins, making my body move as if on its own accord, all of my bodily moves well-known and delivered with ease. I am operating at the maximum of my abilities and, perhaps, even more than that. I am vaguely aware of the constant excited buzz of the crowd in the background, which seems to want my jumping roller-coaster to never stop. The audience is gasping at the string of ultra -difficult technical elements. Do they really want me to win? My thoughts disappear as fast as they emerge. All my being is filled with the wild energy of the music, its pulsing might growing wings behind my back, deafening choir and orchestral frenzy of the concluding part seemingly levitating me above the smooth ice surface. The feeling of incredible inner uplift making it hard for me to breath at the end, but I feel no tiredness - only the exhilarating realization of my own triumph. The star has fallen today and it is me who has brought its downfall, me – “just a seventeen year old boy”, who is competing at this important continental championship for the first time.

     Five landed quads and Rafael’s brimming with pride smile. Agonizing wait for the total score and the final result of 307.46 which sets victorious flame inside my joyful heart _. I did it_. They say you are the best in history, they say you are unique and there’s never going to be someone like you again, they consider you to be an ice god, an entity – a _kami_ incarnated. I leave them to it but now I am the victor. I have surpassed you this evening. I am better today.

     The victory ceremony goes in a standard way. With my heart still beating fast in my chest I am waiting eagerly for it to begin. It seems as if suddenly everyone wants to congratulate me, wanting to have a piece of my so hard-earned victory for themselves: just one word, a smile, a handshake or an embrace. I know that only ten or fifteen minutes ago a lot of these people were just as ready to celebrate your victory over me but now they do want to be a part of my triumph in one way or another.

     With the corner of an eye I see you saying something to Shoma, leaning closely to him. There are no visible traces of disappointment on your face except for your always ideally rehearsed smile looks a bit too forced now. And of course your eyes, I can see no sunshine in them. All I can see in them is _nothing._ Now they not only look dark and impenetrable but also there is an icy cold in them. I have never thought that black ice can exist.

     You extend your narrow long-fingered hand politely for a common handshake, adding a formal but nevertheless a totally charming smile as a congratulatory bonus. I can feel that beneath your perfect composure you are full to the brim with the bitterness of defeat. My eyes never leaving your face, I squeeze your palm tightly and pull you into an embrace, our bodies flush against each other. I am laughing inwardly at Shoma’s widened eyes and your sharp intake of breath. You didn’t anticipate such an initiative on my part because everyone knew that I wasn’t included into the number of people who could cross the boundary of your personal space in such a bold manner, just on a whim. It was always you who decided whom and when to hug, the only exception was, perhaps, your training partner – Spaniard Javier Fernandez. He could ruffle your hair suddenly or put his hands around your tiny waist or shoulders in an almost possessive manner. I saw him touching the back of your head gently a couple of times or the fleeting caress of his fingers on the delicate skin of your neck, which seemed a bit too intimate for an absolutely innocent, friendly gesture. I heard some hushed whispers about the true nature of your relationship with him but I didn’t give them a second thought, after all, it’s not my concern with whom you have or had sex, in case you had any at all. Though, I find it difficult to believe you haven’t indulged yourself even once.

    Standing on the top of the pedestal that evening I felt true happiness. There was nothing in this world that could spoil the sweetness of my triumph. Even the blood in my veins seemed to rush a bit faster, the thrill of excitement thrumming deep inside. It has finally dawned upon me that I am the best tonight in spite of your desperate resistance. I’ve won our cruel but honest battle. Listening proudly to the anthem of the victor’s country, my country in fact, I caught your half concealed glances from time to time. I realized that though you were looking at me the only thing you really saw was the shining golden medal on my chest. Suddenly, I felt an unpleasant pang at the thought. I knew you to be monstrously ambitious, wanting to win everything all of the time, against everyone. To be perfect, always. “To be godlike from now on” – these words of yours still seem a bit ridiculous to me. Why putting such a tremendous weight of your own high expectations on your shoulders, adding them subsequently to the great mass of those of the other’s  and speaking it out loud for everyone to hear..? Truly, you were never meant for easy ways. More than anything else you liked to challenge: us – your rivals and, of course, yourself and your own human nature making the prefix “-super” in front of “human” seem absolutely legit. But the only thing I do know that if you were a real god you wouldn’t have lost to me today. I caught myself thinking that I would have shred all of your seeming perfection with great pleasure. I wanted to reach you, to see you as you are, your true inner self, behind the armor of your ideality. Rafael’s words which had been said right before my performance earlier that evening flashed in my mind vividly: “Do him.” Only now I felt the shift in the context – I’ll make you mine. The thought didn’t appear too crazy to me on that fateful February night in Gangneung, when everything seemed possible.

     It wasn’t difficult to find out the number of the hotel room you were staying in or the number of your mobile phone, which was kindly provided to me by clueless and ever friendly Jason Brown. I didn’t bother to ask how exactly he had obtained it. I type a sms quickly, telling that I would like to see you, that there is something I need to tell you. I send the second sms-message shortly, adding that I do not want to be impolite but I’ll drop in in a couple of minutes, cause it is still not that late - 22:00. Several smiley icons complete the picture of my friendly intentions.  But what if you simply do not open the door, you may have plenty of reasons for not doing it and I can think of almost none for you to do it, honestly. I don’t see you wanting to let me in at such an hour, alone in your hotel room…Well, I am about to find out for sure soon.            

     Heading to the door of your hotel room I knock confidently and pull the knob, which surprisingly gives in immediately. The door was not locked, as if you were already waiting for me, having left the door open. Well, it’s a bit unexpected but maybe your mood was not that sour after all.                                           
 — Yuzuru! It’s me, Nathan! – coming in, the semi-darkness engulfs me, the only source of light is a small lamp near the king-size bed. I look around the room and you are nowhere to be seen which feels even more strange, I admit. All of a sudden I can feel your intense stare on my back.  
  
— Konbanwa*, Yuzu… — I turn and the words die at the back of my throat left unsaid because you are standing there at the door, naked, except for the dark-violet hotel towel draped low around your narrow hips. Your dark hair is wet after the shower and I can see how separate droplets of water are still sliding down your lean, sculptured torso. I lick my lips involuntarily and my cheeks are starting to burn like the red sun on your native country’s flag. It cannot go unnoticed. I feel my breath hitch as you are glancing over me languidly without uttering a single word. I feel like a fool now but I don’t know how to react and what is expected of me in such a peculiar situation. Finally you have decided to dispel the silence and in a quiet and a bit hoarse voice you ask:

  — Where is it? Have you taken it with you? Give it to me.

     I know perfectly well what exactly you are talking about, sliding my hand into the pocket of a training sweatshirt without further hesitation and taking out the dully shining medal. You approach me closely your eyes never leaving the object in my hand. Your fingertips brush it’s round shape almost reverently. I can see the whole spectrum of different emotions on your face, ranging from the bitter shadow of loss to something far more obscure, akin hardly describable frenetic longing, a desire to have something that has slipped so annoyingly through your fingers at the very last moment. In the delirious gleam of your bottomless eyes I catch some kind of a fascination, verging on the unhealthy and I find myself lost in that abyss. All of the words seem unnecessary to me now, they would be of no power in the heated tension hanging in the air between us, useless to convey the storm which was raging in my chest.   

     Gently but confidently I remove your hand from the medal. You are looking me straight in the eye and I read wounded pride and a barely concealed disappointment in your gaze. You look vulnerable and I know that you hate it. Your flawless façade has made a crack and now I am pretty sure that I’ll get through it.

     I delicately put the medal around your neck then, not losing an opportunity to touch your smooth, satin-like skin in the process. I’ll gladly give it for you to own during the evening and night, for there is something entirely different I would like to have for myself tonight. You possess the medal I possess you.

     I can see you biting your lip, lowering eyes as if you have managed to read my mind somehow, though it seems to be not a difficult task at all, considering the way I’ve been looking at you the last several minutes, unbridled lust written all over my face.  My slightly trembling fingers freeze at your slender waist momentarily. Heart is beating wildly from excitement and I am worrying so much…It seems that I am calmer right before doing a quadruple lutz or flip, for that matter. I feel like a timid seventeen year old virgin and it’s not exactly the case. I need to pull myself together and act on it, I need…     

     You shove me across the chest and I fell backwards helplessly, loosing balance and feeling a soft bed cover beneath my back. In one unwavering motion you send the hotel towel flying to the far corner of the room, leaving me drinking in your glorious nakedness. The only things your gorgeous body is adorned with are two your ever-present wrist bracelets and my shining golden medal around your slender neck.  The next moment you are already straddling my hips. You are obviously aroused as well and it encourages me to make a move of my own. Pulling at the ribbon of the main prize of the evening I drag you close to me, claiming your tempting lips in a bruising kiss. I desire to take you wildly, violently right now, right here, on this huge bed with my fucking medal around your long, swan-like neck.

     You are showing signs of impatience too, trying to seize an initiative, our hands and tongues struggling for dominance. You do not want to submit for a minute. You are not even remotely as fragile as you seem to be from the outside and it’s hard for me to cope with your strength. It looks like our rivalry which has started on the ice is going to continue on these bedsheets as well. At a certain point I manage to wrestle you beneath me, hovering over, having you pinned under the weight of my body. I kiss your neck and collarbones hungrily, not bothering weather there will be marks in the wake of my lips. I suck and bite, making you squirm, gasping for air desperately. My lips find their way to your little pert nipples and I lick at them, biting ever so tenderly. You moan sweetly, arching your back gracefully and I can feel your fingers at the back of my head urging me to continue my explorations of your beautiful body, albeit lower. Not that I have to be told twice. Spreading your fine legs apart roughly, I close my lips around your erect cock. My hands lay firmly on your hipbones, thumbs drawing small circles to the rhythm of my lips. I tongue the slit gently, making you groan in pleasure, licking the sensitive underside as slight shivers run through your body. I can feel your fingers pulling at my hair forcefully, you want me to cut the teasing and I comply, eventually. I relax my throat and take your hard cock as deep as I can, trying to give you the best sensations, well, actually, I am not experienced at all but the sounds you’re making are guiding me for good. Besides, I have always been a quick learner. I let you have a way with my mouth, as you establish a distinct rhythm that you find most satisfying. I feel several teardrops slide down my flushed cheeks and I’ve never felt so aroused and humiliated at the same time in my whole life. I can tell that you’re close, pulsing hotly between my lips and from the long moans spilling from your lips. I think that very soon I’ll have to taste you. But then you put everything to an abrupt end, shoving me aside almost violently. Your porcelain–like pale cheeks are rosy now and kiss-swollen lips look obscenely scarlet. You don’t want to lose our little battle, I see. You are panting and I can hear a couple of almost inaudible sobs escaping your heaving chest. It’s quite comical the way you avert your gaze, trying to find some semblance of control over your heated body. Oh, I’ll ravish you tonight, there’s no escaping it and you seem to know it too.  It dawns upon me that I am still fully dressed and I swiftly take off my sweatshirt, sport pants and briefs, cool air hitting my sweaty skin. Most of all I want to feel your delicate skin with my own, to make our bodies touch in the most intimate of ways, so there is nothing between us, no artificial obstacles. We fuse into one being, a unity of skin, limbs and lips. I’ve never known I would desire something so much.

     You stretch towards a nightstand, taking out the lube and coating your fingers with it. The realization that you have it there, at the reach of your hand, hits me suddenly. Who would have thought that you were into that sort of bodily delights, but there are no traces of embarrassment in your actions and I can definitely tell that it’s far from your first time doing it. I want to touch you frantically, because simply watching you meticulously finger yourself is positively unbearable. You are starting to lose yourself in pleasure pretty soon, three long digits buried deeply between your milky thighs, moving with a well-practiced skill. It feels like a torture but I endure, biting the inside of the cheek, forcing myself to sit still, knowing full well that if I only start to touch myself the way I want, I’ll lose it immediately. It’s not going to happen because I’ll take you and now it’s the only thing that I know, the only thing that matters to me. The violent force of my desire is scorching my very core. You look so beautifully sinful and depraved with your skin glistening from sweat in the warm lamplight, with your lily-white thighs moving eagerly to meet your thrusting knuckle-deep fingers, sensual lips parted in a lascivious moan, dark eyes glazed with lust…

_Divine._

— Please, stop, please…I can’t take it anymore,  — I hardly recognize the croaked sound of my own voice, as I almost keen.

— Please, please just let me…I beg you… — I am suffocating now. It’s so not champion-like but I hardly give a damn and I am not even ashamed of myself. I can’t think about anything except burying myself into you completely.  Maybe you think of me as a young pitifully begging boy, I do not care, just let me fuck you.  

    Your knowing smile serves as the only answer to my pleas. I know that it was exactly what you wanted – to make me beg. Finally, you showed some mercy on me. You‘ve made me lay on my back gently, stopping all my efforts to touch you. You straddle me, hovering above and I can feel the cool slide of the medal on my flushed skin. I’ve almost forgotten about it already. Maintaining an eye contact, you lick the palm of your hand slowly. Your eyes are devouring me and I have to squeeze my eyelids shut for a moment in order to prevent my body from coming. I know what exactly you are going to do and the anticipation is driving me mad. A feverish shiver wrecks my body as I moan loudly, feeling your slick hand guiding my painfully hard cock into your wet heat. You start to descend slowly, letting me fill you up inch by inch, little by little, till I am balls deep inside your quivering tightness. We both freeze and it feels as if I have forgotten how to breath from the sharpness of delight. Soon you start to move carefully, finding a hasteless rhythm to prolong the intense feelings. I find your movements to be so unbearably slow but I give all of the control to you, only crumpling the sheets in my fingers and moaning helplessly, my head spinning from pleasure. An amusing thought crosses my mind briefly that it’s, actually, you who are fucking me now and not the other way around.

     You are increasing the pace, rolling your hips more vigorously now, as you are trying to find the most pleasurable angle of penetration. Through half-closed eyes I watch you riding me with my golden medal swinging to the rhythm of your movements and, gosh, I want it to never end. Suddenly, your bright red, bitten lips make a perfect “o” and you scream, your back arching and body trembling violently. My hands grab your hips in an instant and I immediately start to thrust up into you forcefully, maintaining the position and trying to hit that super sensitive spot hidden in the depth of your body. It seems that you’ve completely lost your mind, giving in to pleasure with abandon. The never ending stream of sensual, desperate moans is spilling from your lips and I fleetingly think that neighbors from next hotel rooms are having no trouble in guessing what is happening here. Our bodies seemed to be made for each other at the moment: melting into one, loosing themselves to the primal, eternal rhythm for two.

     You came first and you came hard, fingers digging into my forearms painfully, mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes shut tightly. I felt your warm sperm spurting across my belly and chest, your inner muscles fluttering around me deliciously, making me reach my own mind-blowing climax. I felt myself falling and falling endlessly into the abyss of carnal delight of such force that I have almost lost consciousness. I’ve never felt anything alike in my whole life.

      Trying to calm my breathing and to come down from the heights of a truly fantastic sex, I felt you sliding from my body. Your trembling arms were not giving you enough support as you sank exhausted on the bedsheets near me. Your beloved Pooh-san with paper tissues would have been of great use now. You turned your back towards me and I wanted to embrace you, to hold you tightly, but I didn’t have the strength to move or even to speak, still basking in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm. Everything seemed to me like a dream or an erotic fantasy which is meant to disappear with the first rays of the dawn. Surreal.  Do I have the right to touch you? I was not absolutely sure. Maybe, all you feel now is regret and guilt and it’s better for me to just get up, get dressed and leave silently without a single word, pretending that it’s never happened.  But then you sat up on the bed, facing me. You looked tranquil and satisfied, though very tired and I sighed with relief. You smiled at me embarrassingly, biting your lower lip and all I could do is to smile back at you in return. Something warm bloomed inside my chest and even the room seemed to brighten up. Taking off my medal from your neck you put it on the bed between us:

— It’s rightfully yours, you have deserved it today. I congratulate you sincerely. But I just would like you to know that in a year’s time from now our places will be reversed.

 _To my total horror I’ve realized that I don’t even mind that much._                        

  
  
***

There was a closing exhibition gala on the next day. Jason and I were standing near the boards looking at your performance, marveling at the vision of an exquisite swan you were embodying.  You looked so pure and innocent, bathing in the adoration of the audience. Later, while applauding you with the rest, Jason shared his thoughts with me in a hushed voice:

— Magical, as always! Too bad, he decided not to do his Biellmann spin today…It’s so beautiful. It makes me wonder why…Do you have a clue?

I shrugged nonchalantly feeling myself blushing profusely and praying that it were dark enough for him not to notice it.

 

***

 

*Konbanwa — Good evening (jap.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel to this work: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12495008/chapters/28444648


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